


hashtag bed

by saltysfeathers (saltyfeathers)



Series: hashtag relatable [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfeathers/pseuds/saltysfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one with the bed. </p>
<p>maybe they should just get a king size</p>
            </blockquote>





	hashtag bed

**Author's Note:**

> poor sam gets a break finally. let's pretend he's on his annual "dean and cas are too gross and in love so i need to get outta town for a while" vacation. have a good trip, sam!

dean loves sleeping next to cas, honestly.

but the thing about sleeping next to someone is that you're... sleeping next to someone. sometimes accidents happen. Or in dean's case, strategic plays are put into practice on his unsuspecting person, because he's almost one hundred percent sure cas is trying to sleep-kill him.

like, there's the usual shit where cas steals all the blankets or gets up to piss in the middle of night and jams his toe on the nightstand on his way back, letting loose a long stream of enochian that has dean equal parts pissed off and turned on. there's the times sleep-cas somehow gets the notion in his big dumb angel brain that OF COURSE he should sleep in the direct center of the bed while dean can barely keep a single buttcheek on the mattress. dean usually just ends up flopping onto cas until he starts swatting at him, rolling over only because he's desperate to get away, leaving dean to nestle into the warm space cas leaves behind, smirking.

but then there are the nights like these that lead to inevitable fucking disaster and are susceptible to some of the quaterterbackest spiraling dean’s ever had the horrorpleasure of experiencing. this night specifically, it starts when cas elbows dean in the face and dean literally squawks in displeasure, which is embarrassing, but he did just get woken up by an elbow to the eye socket. he's about to let cas really have it, but when he sits up to really give his diaphragm the chance to project the bitchiness, he sees that cas is still asleep, face sweaty and thrashing around way too much for dean's liking. he leans over, shaking cas awake, because despite the throbbing of dean’s eye, it would probably be at least a little unfair to start yelling at cas when he’s in the middle of a nightmare.

"hey, cas," he says, "cas, wake up."

cas comes to, blinking up at him in confusion.

"dean?" 

"You ok?"

cas' rapid blinking slows, and a pensive look crosses his face. 

"I dreamt we were having sex," he says blearily, "it was... good."

dean narrows his eyes and something clunks in his brain and his eye hurts because he just tried to narrow it. its entirely possible cas knocked the need for glasses into him just now, and dean doesn’t know if he ever forgive cas for that particular brand of treachery.

"you just elbowed me in the face."

cas scrunches up his face, thinking.

"oh," he says mildly, "Well my elbow did knock into the table I was about to fuck you on, but I thought that was only in the dream."

_oh_.

**_o h_**. like its not big deal bc cas is just mr. cool isn’t he.

dean's in a tight spot here. should he be offended that cas goes off and has sex with dream-dean while simultaneously elbowing real-dean in the face? or should he be super flattered and turned on that cas even dreams about him at all?? dean's dick certainly knows how it feels, at least. his northern head kind of wants to knock cas off the bed though.

"no no I get it," dean says, "throw me under the bus for, well, fake me. I bet he's way more flexible than I am anyway."

cas sits up too, considering.

"he is," he admits. he kisses the tender skin just under dean's eye. "but you're the one I love enough to accidentally elbow in the face."

dean rolls his eyes. "Wow that is so romantic."

the next night, Dean shoves cas out of bed, and he swears it's by accident. He swears. Cas doesn't even wake up until he hits the floor with a dull thump. when he finally realizes that he is, indeed, on the floor of their bedroom, his disgruntled, ruffled head pokes up over the side of the bed, eyes narrowed into slits as he glares at dean, who literally has to stuff a fist in his mouth to muffle the laughter that's trying to work its way out. 

"What a coincidence," cas sniffs haughtily as he climbs back into bed, "that the night after I accidentally-"

"-elbow me in the fucking face-"

"And you just happen to knock my ass out of bed."

"Funny how things work out," Dean says, schooling his features and obviously fighting the triumphant smirk that want to plaster itself all over his face.

The next night, Dean wakes up in the middle of pissing himself because cas- who is conspicuously not in the bed he's currently wetting- somehow managed to dip his hand in a bowl of warm water without waking him up.

"CAS YOU PIECE OF SHIT" he bellows, and like dean's pissiness is a summoning spell all its own, cas verrrry slowly leans into view just beyond the threshold of their room, face absolute stone. the fucker was _waiting_ out in the hall. 

"hello, dean."

"I'm going to kill you."

cas' mouth tilts upwards at the corners ever so slightly. 

"you might want to clean yourself up first. It smells like urine in here."

"WHOSE FAULT IS-" dean pinches the bridge of his nose. "yeah. Ok. OKAY. I see how it is."

"I suppose I can escort myself to the couch for the night." 

Dean's undressing, yanking the sheets off the bed.

"Oh, you're in the doghouse all right, but you're staying here. you can change the fucking sheets while you're at it."

dean stalks out of the room with as much dignity as possible, and cas dutifully changes the sheets.

three mornings later, cas (who hates mornings and basically reuses to get up before ten at the very earliest) wakes up and can't move. He looks down at the rest of his body, only to find himself buried under about five separate layers of sheets, all of which, judging by the smell, have been superglued to the bed. 

cas sighs and stares at the ceiling, mostly because he's currently in a position where he really can't look anywhere else. he tries to shuffle himself out, but however dean managed to glue these bedsheets down, he did a very good job. cas is actually impressed he managed to pull this off, but being engaged in shenanigans like this generally don't leave much room for praising the opponent. 

"dean" he says flatly into the room, though he's sure wherever Dean is he can hear the exasperation just lacing his tone. dean must be around here somewhere, unable to stay away from watching his plan in action. 

sure enough, after a couple seconds there's a quiet thump and a much louder _ow, fuck!_ below him, and dean slowly edges out from under the bed. 

"oh hey cas," he says nonchalantly, as if hanging out under beds is something he does all the time. he sits up, resting his elbows on the bed, staring at cas, chin in hands: the picture of innocence. it would probably work better if he hadn’t just crawled out from under the bed like some kind of horrible monster from a children's storybook. a smirk gradually makes its way onto his face as he says, "man, I know you like your beauty sleep but you're really glued to that bed, huh?"

cas glares at dean, dry as the desert. 

"you're going to make me ask for it, aren't you."

"Uh, no, I'm going to make you beg for it"

cas' glare turns baleful.

"please, dean," he says flatly. "please free me of this sheet prison."

"Say please."

"I just did."

"say it again."

cas bites his tongue.

"please, Dean."

dean tilts his head, considering. He pokes cas' side through the sheets. 

"you look like a kebab. or a mummy. or that. uh. thing. that butterflies hatch out of."

"The chrysalis," cas offers coolly. 

"Yeah, that."

they stare at each other until dean rolls his eyes and huffs.

"I'll go get the scissors," he relents, and walks out of the room. "BUT IM TAKING MY TIME" he yells back over his shoulder.

A week later, cas asks dean to go hiking, to which dean very kindly says wow that's nice but no the fuck thank you. then cas offers him a blow job if he'll go, and yeah, it's not like dean was never gonna get blown again if he said no, but he does ~*~*~*~*~*love cas or whatever*~*~*~*~*~ so he eventually grumbles out a begrudging _yes_. they're gone all day, and by the time they get back, dean is exhausted and aching and sweaty, but ultimately in a good mood. 

"why don't you go lie down?" cas offers, running a hand down dean's spine as they head inside, "I'll make you a sandwich."

"uhhhh sorry you're gonna do what?" not that dean is turning it down, but he honestly can't remember if cas has ever offered to make him something other than a cup of coffee before,  since cas is notoriously awful at cooking. Even sam won't eat his cooking, and that's when you know something's really wrong. 

cas rolls his eyes. "it's two pieces of bread,” he says. "I think I can handle it." he smiles and kisses Dean. "thank you for coming with me today."

dean kisses him back, raising an eyebrow.

"are you acting weird?" he asks, "I feel like you're acting weird.”

cas cocks his head to the side.

"nope." is all he says, and slaps dean on the ass. "Go lie down."

"ohhhkay then."

dean tromps off to their room, and he has to admit, he is tired as fuck. It was almost like cas was determined to tire him out, leading them up hills and over boulders and across ledges narrow enough that it was a completely different kind of edging than the one dean’s used to.

their bed looks just as inviting as ever, and it's perfectly made for once, which is strange. Usually dean pulls the covers up and puts the pillows in place, but never this sharply. He figures cas must have come back before they left to fiddle with it for some reason, which, whatever. cas is a weird dude who does weird things.

dean's about to do his standard 'leap onto bed like those people in happy mattress commercials' but right before he does, he steps on a wet patch of carpet. he doesn't even look down, just sighs and promises to himself he'll clean up whatever it is in like, five minutes, after he just chills for at least a sec. he closes his eyes and jumps, excited to be greeted by his favorite and well loved memory foam. 

instead, his bed Explodes. 

well, not explodes. But it breaks. because what dean has jumped onto is not, as he first thought, his bed. what he has jumped onto is a waterbed. A waterbed that, judging by the wet patch he stepped in just a moment ago, was leaking and probably unable to support his weight. Which is why he's currently sitting on his ass on top of said deflated bed, soaking wet and spitting water out of his mouth like a fucking fountain statue.

to say the least, he is gobsmacked.

cas walks in, and that unbelievable fucker actually has a sandwich with him. dean just sits on his ass like an ass and gapes up at him.

"here you go," he says casually, putting the plate on the nightstand. his footsteps squelch in the now soaked carpet. 

"thanks,” dean says faintly.

cas takes a step backwards and surveys the scene in front of him.

"Oh my" he says delicately. 

dean licks his lips and let it be known that waterbed water tastes like ass. 

"how did you even... this?"

Cas shrugs humbly. 

"All electrical outlets are safely blocked," he says. "just in case you were wondering."

"Good to know you draw the line at ELECTROCUTION YOU FUCKER."

dean struggles to stand on the slippery material, and it definitely dents his credibility when he almost falls right back onto his ass. cas, the smug bastard, even offers him a hand , which dean petulantly swats away.

 so maybe he’s a bit of a sore loser, sue him. he’s been beating dudes twice his age at the pool table since he was fifteen. problem is cas is……………………………………….. well. older than twice his age.

"our bed is in the storeroom at the end of the hall," cas offers, eyebrow just slightly arched. "If you'd still like to go lie down."

dean blinks water out of his eyes.

"This whole thing was a ruse. you making the bed properly. the hike. the sandwich. the leak."

"I used to organize hundreds of angelic garrisons going into celestial battle," cas says like its no big deal. "I was- _am_ \- a strategist."

you lost, winchester. suck it up.

dean grits his teeth for a full thirty seconds before he extends a hand. cas looks at it awkwardly, and dean waves it at him.

"This is a peace offering, moron. I'm waving the white flag. You won."

yeah yeah, so the smarmy asshole look is good on cas. it’s a good thing cause he wears that face an awful lot like the fucking peacock he is.

"so I get to set the terms, then? because I won?" cas the negotiator. cas the strategist. cas who dreams about fucking dean on tables.

dean sighs, more long suffering than he needs to. this is what you get when you go up against a guy who's like a billion and a half years old. 

"Yeah, cas. Set to your little heart’s content."

cas takes his hand and shakes it, holding on longer than is generally considered socially acceptable. He turns dean's hand over in his own, rubbing his thumb across the delicate skin of dean's wrist. 

"my first decree as winner," he says, "is that you eat that sandwich."

dean eyes it dubiously.

"There's not like, itching powder in it or something is there?"

"Offering sandwiches in solidarity is a peacekeeping technique I've used before. hopefully it will be more successful this time."

dean nods pensively and takes a bite. 

"This is definitely a sandwich," he says, and cas nods along sagely as if he’s just sprouted some wisdom of the universe.

"Decree two," cas says, "we go to bed for real this time." He eyes dean, mischief sparking in his expression, "Though you're sopping wet. You should probably take your clothes off."

dean nods in understanding, smirking. 

"you're just always trying to get me wet, huh?"

that humble shrug again. 

"I am a strategist, after all."

 


End file.
